


A Deadly Fire

by CyrusJ



Category: Descent Into Avernus - Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Forgotten Realms
Genre: Character Death, Child Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Prompt Fic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyrusJ/pseuds/CyrusJ
Summary: A deadly fire breaks out in a home, leading to both a tragedy and a miracle.The following story was inspired by a writing prompt. It is part of the continuity of my longfic,Pariah's Descent Into Avernus. This is an incident from Farima's childhood. She is 12 years old in this story.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	A Deadly Fire

"Farima," the voiced called softly. "Farima, wake up."

She stirred slowly out of her sleep. She heard roaring and felt heat on her face. She took a breath and started coughing. Her eyelids raised slowly and then suddenly her eyes snapped open.

The room was on fire. Thick smoke make it hard to see, but flames surrounded her. "Tika," she called out an alarm and then started coughing again. She looked towards her little sister's bed, which she could see only dimly through the black haze, but it was empty. "Tika," she coughed out again, stumbling to her feet.

"Farima," she heard. "Move. You have to get out."

She was still disoriented, both from the sudden waking and the lack of oxygen from the smoke. She looked towards the door but couldn't see clearly through the smoke that stung her eyes. "Tika?" she asked as she moved in that direction, her panic rising. Was someone there in the haze?

Farima made it into the hall, her senses starting to sharpen. The smoke was thick here too and the fire was just starting to spread from her room. She could barely breathe in the hot, sooty air. She staggered to the nearest door and started pounding. "Fire," she called out weakly, her throat already burning from the fumes.

She pushed the door to her parents' room open. They were just stirring from the commotion. "Mom, Dad, fire," she said, trying to yell but unable to manage more than a croak. The reality of the situation hit them and they jerked awake more quickly than Farima had.

"Fire!" her father bellowed. "Wake up!" He hustled out into the hall and threw open the other door. "Kids, fire! Get up! Get up!"

Farima's mother rushed up to her and put an arm around her to steady her. "Where's Tika?" she asked.

Farima couldn't talk at all. She just pointed towards the living room where the front door was. The fire was spreading rapidly and already the hall was becoming an inferno. She and her mother moved quickly towards the front room but flames suddenly roared up in front of them. Farima put out a hand to shield her face and the flames were suddenly doused with water.

She looked around, unsure of where the water had come from, but couldn't see the source. Her mother continued to hurry her along and she heard her father gather the other children. The living room was aflame as well. The fire raced across the wall as they watched, as though the walls were soaked in oil. She could heard the beams creaking even over the roar of the inferno.

The front door was burning as they neared. Again she raised her hand to shield her face and again water splashed against the fire in front of her. She hesitated, her mind moving sluggishly. Had she done that? She waved her hand and a spray of water fell on the flames. What was happening?

Her mother grabbed the handle of the door, pulled it open and pushed Farima out into the night. Farima staggered a few steps and then fell to the ground, gasping for breath in the clear air. She could hear others calling the warning of fire but her vision was still hazy from the smoke. "Come on," her father said, grabbing her by the back of her nightgown and hauling her to her feet.

The crowd of them moved off a safe distance from the house, which was now completely engulfed in flames. As her vision cleared she could see townspeople setting up a bucket brigade from the well, but it was slow going and not making much impact against the searing flames. Farima looked at her hand, puzzled. She waved her hand and water fell out of the air onto the ground. She opened her mouth to say something when her mother said, "Where's Tika?"

Farima looked around. "Tika?" her mother called. "Tika?" she called more loudly, panic starting in her voice.

And then the screaming started.

From inside the house, from within the firestorm, a high-pitched shriek of fear and agony ripped through the night air. "Tika!" her mother screamed back.

No, thought Farima. She got out. Farima had seen her. Right? She had heard her voice. Hadn't she?

"Tika!" her father roared and he charged towards the house and the sound of the agonized cries.

Two men moved to stop him. "Isfandiar, wait," one said, but her father hurtled through him like he wasn't there. He ran into the wall of flame that used to be their front door. There was a groan as some of the beams snapped, and the front part of the house collapsed.

Farima couldn't think, her mind frozen by panic, the screaming from within the burning house knifing through her. "Blankets!" someone yelled. As she watched, one of the neighbors brought out blankets. The two men who had tried to stop her father wrapped themselves in the heavy woolen blankets and ran towards the house.

She looked to see her three brothers, her older sister and her mother all watching the house with horror as the screaming continued from within. Farima didn't know how much it would help, but she ran to the well and grabbed one of the buckets. She held her hand over it and it started filling with water. It was slow no matter how hard she tried, but it filled. When it was nearly full, she handed it into the bucket line and grabbed another. She got a strange look from the man who took it but ignored him.

"Isfandiar!" her mother cried. Farima looked up to see the two men, their blankets smoldering, come out of the flames dragging her father's limp body. As they laid him on the ground, her mother ran up, as did Nazita the healer. Farima watched, continuing to fill buckets, as the healer attended him. The woman had salves and potions, but no magic herself. There were no priests in this town. She watched as Nazita spoke to her mother, her face grim in the light of the burning house.

The screaming finally stopped and the silence was somehow worse. There was no sound now but the roar of the flames that had been barely diminished by the slow assault of water buckets. The brigade continued tenaciously, silently. Farima was exhausted from whatever power let her summon water, but she continued with single-minded determination even as her muscles ached with the effort. Maybe there was still some kind of hope.

"All right," Farsam, the town mayor, called out many buckets later. "That's enough. Let's just let it burn out."

Farima stared at the house gloomily. The flames were lower, but not due to any efforts from the town. There just wasn't much left in the house to burn. Farima realized she hadn't even cried yet. She was numb.

She saw they were loading her father into a wagon. Rasaneh, her older sister, was climbing into the driver's seat. Farima stood and walked over. "What's going on?" she asked her mother.

Her mother's face was wet with tears. "They are taking him to Almraiven, to the temple of Ilmater," she said in a quavering voice. "They may be able to help him." She wiped her eyes. "Wish him a safe journey," she said to all the children.

Farima moved closer to the wagon. She couldn't see her father well in the poor light, but she could tell his clothes were charred and his flesh was badly burned. His breath rasped in his throat and he was still unconscious. She wanted to cry. She wanted to summon the tears like she'd summoned the water to the buckets, but her eyes remained dry. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked in a small voice.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," said Nazita in that voice adults use when they lie to children.

None of this was real. It had to be a dream. That's why she couldn't cry. Because it wasn't real. In a daze, she stepped forward and reached out to put her hand on his calf. She closed her eyes. "Ilmater, Tyr and Torm," she said, "please watch over my father and make sure he arrives at his destination safely."

Farima felt a warmth and opened her eyes. There was a glowing radiance around her hand that was spreading across her father's body. She watched in shock, afraid to move, as it washed over him and faded. When it was gone, he exhaled a long breath. For a moment nothing happened, Farima stood frozen in alarm, and then he started breathing again. The rattle in his chest was gone, and his burns were noticeably less severe.

A babble went up from the people around her. "How did you do that?" asked Nazita in awe as she moved to examine him again.

"I don't know," she stammered out. "I just...I don't know." She slowly withdrew her hand.

"He's better," she said. She turned to Rasaneh. "I think he'll make it. You still need to hurry, but don't go so fast you break an axle on the way." Rasaneh nodded and jerked the reins to start the horses moving, the light from the lanterns hung on the wagon illuminating the road ahead.

Farima was suddenly wrapped in an embrace. "Thank you," her mother said, her voice nearly sobbing. Her siblings joined the hug.

"How did you do that?" "Can you do anything else?" "Were you filling the buckets with magic?" and more questions erupted from around her.

"I don't know," she said in answer to each question. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know!" she snapped.

She was shaking from exhaustion and stress. "That's enough questions," said her mother to the others.

The rest of the night was a blur. The Boulos family brought them inside, served the children pastries and cocoa spiked with a little fermented milk. Farima ate and drank mechanically, not tasting anything. There was some awkward conversation but mostly uncomfortable silence. One of the men came in and leaned down to whisper to Farima's mother, who nodded as tears started again. She got up from the table and said, "I'll be back in a moment, children."

She started to follow the man out and then stopped. Hesitantly she said, "Farima, why don't you come with me?"

Confused, Farima followed her. "Where are we going?" she asked when they got outside.

She saw the fire was out. The house was a collapsed piled of rubble, smoke still rising from it. Two men were carrying out of the rubble something wrapped in a blanket and Farima grew cold as she realized what it was, and that her mother was pulling her towards it.

She stopped and jerked her hand out of her mother's. "Where are we going?" she asked again.

"You have to help her," her mother said, her voice breaking. "You have to try to help her. You have to bring her back."

"What?" she asked in horror. "I...I can't. I can't do something like that."

Her mother grabbed her arm and started pulling her. "You have to try," she said desperately. Farima didn't resist as her mother dragged her towards the men. "Put her down," her mother said. "Right there. Put her down."

The men looked confused but then lowered their burden to the ground. Farima's mother pulled her to the ground next to it. "Help her," she begged.

Farima's senses were overwhelmed by the smell. The ash and smoke were strong, but the stench of burned flesh made her queasy and she was afraid she'd vomit. She couldn't do this. There was no way. But she had to try. "I think," she said, and her voice caught. She steeled herself and said, "I think I need to touch her."

She didn't have to look up to know that the men were exchanging glances. "Do it," her mother said. One of the men knelt down and carefully unwrapped a corner of the blanket, exposing a piece of what was inside.

It took Farima a moment even to understand what she was looking it. It was a limb, blackened bone showing through charred flesh. Again the revulsion rose in her throat, but she pushed it down. She reached out a shaking hand and forced herself to place it on the leathery skin. She took a shuddering breath and said, "Ilmater, Tyr and Torm please restore my sister to life."

She waited but nothing happened. She ground her teeth together and said more loudly, "Ilmater, Tyr and Torm please restore my sister to life."

She could hear her mother start to cry behind her. She tried to will the power into the body before her, tried to force it. "Please!" she wailed, her cry hanging over the silent town, her tears finally starting to pour down her face. But the gods did not respond, the body did not stir.

Her mother put a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," she said through her tears. "I had to ask. Thank you for trying."

Farima sobbed as the men wrapped Tika up and carried her away, her mother holding her tightly and stroking her hair. "I'm sorry," Farima finally choked out.

"No, no, no," her mother crooned. "You already have done so much. You saved your father."

"I should have saved her," she wept. "From the fire. I should have watched her. I should have taken care of her."

"It's not your fault," her mother assured her. "They said they found her under her bed. She must have hidden when she saw the fire."

"But I heard her. She called to me. She led me out of there. I thought she was ahead of me."

"What?" her mother said, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"She woke me," Farima said. "I mean I think she did. I mean maybe it was a dream, but I heard her after I was awake. And it wasn't from under her bed. And I thought I saw someone in the hall."

Her mother looked puzzled. "Maybe it was something else. Maybe an angel was watching over you tonight." She leaned forward to touch her forehead to Farima's. "I lost one daughter, but I could have lost two. I could have lost your father. I could have lost everyone if you hadn't warned us. This was a tragedy but also a miracle."

"I'm still sorry I couldn't save her."

They held each other a while longer, until her mother said, "Come on," and gently brought her to her feet. "Let's go back inside."

"No," Farima said. "I'd like to be alone for a little bit." Her mother looked concerned, and Farima said quickly, "I'm fine. I just need to think. To pray." She pointed to the low stone wall that surrounded the town. "I'll just be right there."

"All right," her mother said reluctantly. "But come back inside soon or I'll come looking for you."

"I will."

As her mother headed back to the Boulos house, Farima headed through a wide gap between houses to the rough, waist-high stone wall. She climbed on top of it and sat facing out from the town, looking out over the desert. She folded her hands and closed her eyes.

"Thank you for saving my family," she said. Most of my family, she thought, trying not to be bitter. "Thank you for granting me the ability to help them. Please guide Tika safely to her final destination and may she live eternally in happiness." Farima paused and then said. "Who spoke to me last night?" She waited for an answer but none came. "Please speak with me now. I would like to know more about why you saved me, what you want of me." When there was nothing but silence, she opened her eyes.

She looked at her hand. It looked just as it had before. There were no magic glows or arcane sigils. It was just the hand of a girl who studied and played and had friends and lived a normal life. She made a gesture, and drops of water fell to the sand below the wall. How was she doing that?

"I guess you are some kind of hero, now," said a spiteful voice from behind her.

She jumped and turned to see it was Arashk, her brother, older by two years. He was glaring at her with poisonous eyes. "Mom's in there saying you are blessed by the gods or some nonsense like that. Some kind of prophet or saint or something." He sneered, "Should I kneel?"

"What do you want?" she asked tiredly.

He stepped forward. "What else can you do. You can make water. You can heal. What else?" He glared at her. "Can you make fire?"

The question was so surprising that it took Farima a moment to process it. "What are you saying?"

"A fire and suddenly you have magic powers?" he said angrily. "And we aren't supposed to think they are connected?"

"Connected how?"

"I think you've had these powers for a while. I think you set the fire. I think you killed Tika."

"What?" Farima said sharply, unsure whether to be angry or hurt. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"You hated her," he accused, his eyes flashing. "You've always been jealous of the attention she got. You were always talking about what a pain she was and how you wish she'd just go away."

"No. I mean I just didn't want her tagging along all the time. She was..." She stopped. Tika had been annoying, but she didn't feel comfortable speaking ill of the dead. "I loved her," she said. "I'd never hurt her."

Arashk snorted in disbelief. "And I'm sure everyone will believe that when you cry your fake tears. Saint Farima. But I know the truth, even if nobody else will believe it. You killed her and nearly killed the rest of us. I'll never forgive you for that."

She watched in shock as he stormed off.


End file.
